BUNNY. Pshaw! it must have been somebody else you saw.
COCKLE. I came to that conclusion myself; so I determined to wait; ordered a fire, and a bottle of Sherry; fell asleep—woke again—ordered another——
BUNNY. Another fire?
COCKLE. Another bottle of Sherry.
BUNNY. No wonder you’re so red in the face. Well?
COCKLE. At last, I remembered telling him to buy himself a pair of white kid gloves—so off I set to all the hosier’s shops in the neighbourhood, bought a pair of gloves at each—sixteen of them; here they are; (tapping the pocket of his paletot) but all in vain! (turns up to C. door—polka heard off at back)
BUNNY. Nonsense! Find him you must! (here PHŒBE re-enters at little front door, L.) or else the marriage of Caroline Bunny, spinster, and Triptolemus Brown, bachelor, cannot take place!
COCKLE. (suddenly, and looking of at C. towards L.) Ah! I think I see him in the ball room—look there—dancing the polka! Here, young woman. (giving hat and paletot to PHŒBE—PHŒBE goes into small room, L. with things)
COCKLE. Come along, Bunny, come along! (puts his arm within BUNNY’S and drags him off, C. towards R.)